Chapter 18 Chapter Eighteen

The hearing took place at the 'Blue Boar' Hotel at 2:00 pm that day (Saturday). Needless to say, this caused a huge stir locally.There had been no murders in St. Mary Mead for at least fifteen years.The murder of a man like Colonel Protheroe in the parsonage study was one of the few things that surprised the villagers. All kinds of comments that I don't want to hear floated into my ears: "Here comes the vicar. Quite pale, isn't he? I'm not sure if he got in on it too. It was at the vicarage, after all." "How can you say that? He was visiting Henry Abbot." "Oh But they do say he had a quarrel with the Colonel. Here comes Mary Hill. See, she's putting on that air, and she's just doing her job. Don't make a fuss, the coroner's here.”

The coroner was Dr Roberts of Much Burnham, our neighboring town.He cleared his throat, raised his glasses, and put on a solemn look. It would be tedious to restate all the evidence.Lawrence Redding testified about the discovery of the body and confirmed that the pistol belonged to him.He was sure he had seen the pistol on Tuesday, two days before the murder.The guns were on a rack in his lodgings, the doors of which were customarily unlocked, and Mrs. Protheroe testified that she had last seen her husband when they parted on the village road at about a quarter to six.She agreed to call him at the Vicarage later.At about a quarter past six she followed the back path from the garden gate to the vicarage.She heard nothing from the study and thought it was empty, but her husband might be sitting at the desk and she would not be able to see him then.As far as she knew, his health and mental condition were normal.She hadn't heard of any enemy who held a grudge against him.

Then I testified about my appointment with Protheroe and my phone call to Abbott's house.I related how I found the body, and called Dr. Haydock. "Mr. Claremont, how many people knew that Colonel Protheroe was coming to see you that evening?" "A lot of people, I think. My wife knows it, my nephew knows it, and he himself mentioned it when I met him in the village that morning. Lots of people, I think, could have overheard His words, because he is a little deaf, speak loudly." "So, is this something that everyone knows? Anyone possibly know?" I said so" Haydock went on to testify. He was an important witness. He carefully and expertly described the appearance of the body and the exact location of the gunshot. According to his judgment, the deceased was about 6:20 to 6:00 Thirty shots—certainly no later than six thirty-five. That was the maximum time limit. He affirmed it and emphasized it. There was no question of suicide, the shots could not have been self-inflicted.

Inspector Slack's testimony was discreet and brief, as he described the scene when he was notified and saw the body.He showed the letter and called attention to the time on it—twenty past six.And an alarm clock.It goes without saying that the time of death may be assumed to be twenty-two past six.The Inspector missed nothing.Anne Protheroe told me later that the Inspector believed she had arrived at the vicarage a little earlier than six-twenty. The latter witness was Mary, our maid, who appeared to be a somewhat rough witness.She hadn't heard anything, and didn't want to hear anything.It seems that gentlemen who come to see the priest are not usually shot.They won't.She has her own words to attend to.Colonel Protheroe arrived exactly at a quarter past six.No, she didn't look at the clock.After she ushers him in, he hears the church bells ringing.She didn't hear any gunshots.If there had been a gunshot, she would have heard it.Oh, of course, since the husband had been found shot, she knew there must have been a shot--but that was all.She did not hear the gunshot.

The coroner did not pursue the matter further.I realized that he was in harmony with Colonel Melchett. Mrs. Lestrands was also summoned to testify, but she produced a certificate signed by Dr. Haydock stating that she could not attend due to illness. There is one last witness, an old woman who is a little shambling.According to Slack, she was "keeping the house" for Lawrence Redding. Mrs. Archer was shown the pistol, which she recognized as the one she had seen in Mr. Redding's bedroom, "on a bookcase, anywhere." She had last seen it on the day of the murder. gun.Yes - she said in response to further questions - she was sure the gun was still there at lunchtime on Thursday.It was a quarter to one when she left.

I remembered what the Inspector had told me, and could not help being a little surprised.She had a hazy memory when he questioned her, and was pretty sure about the gun now. The coroner declared the trial closed with a calm but firm tone.The verdict was delivered almost immediately: A murder committed by an unknown person or persons. When I came out of the room, I saw a small group of young men, with bright and alert eyes, and a certain resemblance in appearance.Some of them looked familiar to me, for they had been hanging around the Vicarage for the past few days.In order to escape, I turned back to the "Blue Boar" hotel, and fortunately I ran into the archaeologist Dr. Stone.I also ignored the etiquette and grabbed him.

"Those reporters," I said curtly and clearly, "can you help me get rid of them?" "Oh, no problem, Mr. Claremont. Come upstairs with me." He led the way up the narrow stairs and into his bedroom, where Miss Crumb sat expertly typing on the keys of a typewriter.She greeted me with a big smile and welcomed me and took the opportunity to stop working. "It's horrible, isn't it?" she said, "I mean, don't know who did it. I'm disappointed with the trial though.Not tasty enough, that's how I see it.From beginning to end there is nothing you can call a hearty plot. "

"So, are you there too, Miss Crumb?" "Of course I was there. Didn't think you didn't see me. Didn't you see me? It hurt me a little. Yes, I did. A man, even if he's a clergyman, should have eyes in his head." "Are you there, too?" I asked Dr. Stone, trying to get rid of the playful jeering.Young women like Miss Crumb always embarrass me. "No, I'm afraid I don't have much interest in such things. I'm a man who indulges in his hobbies." "That must be a really interesting hobby," I said. "Perhaps you know a thing or two?"

I'm forced to answer, I know next to nothing. Even admitting that you don't know anything doesn't discourage you, and Dr. Stone is one of those people.It turns out that my only hobby is digging graves.He beamed with delight and spoke eloquently.Long tombs, round tombs, prehistoric dolmens and freestanding tombs from the Stone Age, Bronze Age, Paleolithic and Neolithic ages, all flowed from his mouth like a fountain.I just nodded my head, pretending to know what to do—maybe it's too optimistic to say so.Dr. Stone went on talking in a deep, sonorous voice.He was a small man with a round bald head and a round, ruddy face.His eyes stare at you from behind thick lenses.I've never met a man who became so enthusiastic with such a small encouragement.He discusses at length every single argument for or against his narcissistic theory, which, by the way, I am completely at a loss for.

He recounted at length his differences of opinion with Colonel Protheroe. "A stubborn bumpkin," he said angrily, "yes, yes, I know he's dead, and one shouldn't speak ill of a dead man. But death doesn't change the fact. He was a stubborn bumpkin. Just because he read After a few books, I set myself up as an authority—against a man who has devoted his life to this subject. Mr. Clermont, I have devoted my life to this work." He spoke excitedly, spit spattering.A short sentence from Gladys Crumb brought him back to reality. "If you're not careful, you'll miss the train," she said.

"Oh!" The little man stopped talking, and took out a watch from his pocket. "Oh! Only a quarter? Impossible." "Once you start talking, you can't keep track of the time. I really don't know what would have happened to you without my care." "Exactly, darling, exactly," he patted her shoulder appreciatively. "This is a wonderful girl, Mr. Claremont. Never forgets a thing. I consider myself very lucky to have found her." "Oh! Stop it, Dr. Stone," said the girl, "you're flattering me, really." I cannot help feeling that I would, in fact, support the second view--a view which foresees that legal marriage will be the end of Dr. Stone and Miss Crumb.Miss Crumb was, I imagined, a sort of clever young lady who had her own way of life. "You'd better go," said Miss Crumb. "Okay, okay, I'll go." He went into the next room and came out carrying a suitcase. "Are you leaving?" I asked in surprise. "Just going to town for a few days," he explained, "to see my old mother tomorrow, and have some business with my lawyer on Monday. Be back on Tuesday. By the way, I don't think Colonel Protheroe's death will affect our arrangements. I mean about the cemetery.Mrs. Protheroe won't object to our continuing work? " "I don't see it that way." When he said this, I was wondering who would be the master of the "old house".It is likely that Protheroe will leave the house to Lettice.It seemed to me interesting to know the contents of Protheroe's will. "When a person dies, it brings a lot of trouble to the family," said Miss Crumb, slightly darkly. "You can't imagine the atmosphere of sadness sometimes." "Oh, I really have to go." Dr. Stone struggled to grab a suitcase, a large blanket, and a heavy umbrella, and I went to help him.He declined. "Don't bother, don't bother. I can handle it very well. There must be someone downstairs." But downstairs there wasn't even a shoe shiner or anything.I think they went to serve the journalists.Time was tight, so we headed for the train station, Dr. Stone with the suitcase and I with the blanket and umbrella. As we hurried on, Dr. Stone gasped and said: "It's very kind of you - don't want - to bother you ... I hope we don't miss this - this train - Gladys is a good girl - a wonderful girl indeed - very gentle nature - I'm afraid in Not a very happy family--absolutely-pure in heart-pure in heart. I assure you that despite the -difference in age- find many commonalities..." Just as we were turning towards the station, we saw Laurence Redding's house.It stood there all alone.There are no other houses around.I saw two bright-looking young men standing on the steps, and several others peeping in through the windows.Journalists are busy enough these days. "That's a good fellow, Little Redding," I said, to see what my companion would say. At this time, he was out of breath, and it was difficult to say anything, but he still gasped for a word, which I didn't catch clearly for a while. When I asked him to repeat his words, he gasped out one word: "Dangerous." "Danger?" "Very dangerous. Ignorant girls - don't know much - fall into the trap of guys like this - always around women... not good." From this I deduced that the only young man in the village had not escaped the attention of the handsome Gladys. "My God!" exclaimed Dr. Stone. "Train!" At this time, we were close to the train station and started to run quickly.The train from London was stopping at the station, and the train bound for London was coming in.At the door of the ticket office we bumped into an elegant young man whom I recognized as the nephew of Miss Marple who had just arrived.He was a young man who didn't like being bumped, I thought.He was proud of his poised, detached demeanor, which was no doubt marred by the vulgar touch.He swayed back a few steps.I quickly apologized and we pulled in.Dr. Stone climbed onto the train, and I handed him the luggage, just in time for the train to plod forward and start. I waved to him and turned to leave.Raymond, West has already left, but our local pharmacist nicknamed "Little Angel" just happened to be in the village too.I walked side by side with him. "How dangerous!" said he. "Oh, how is the trial going, Mr. Clermont?" I told him the outcome of the verdict, "Oh! So that's what happened. I think the verdict is going to be like this. Where is Dr. Stone going?" I repeated what he told me. "You're lucky you didn't miss the train. You never know what's going on with this railway. I tell you, Mr. Clermont, it's a damn shame, that's what I said. My train was ten minutes late.And, it was a Saturday when there was little traffic.On Wednesday—no, Thursday—yes, Thursday—I remember the day the murder happened, because I was going to write a strongly worded letter of complaint to the railway company—the murder made me forget about it —Yes, last Thursday.I went to a meeting of the Society of Pharmacy.How late do you say the 6:50 train is?half an hour.A full half hour!What do you think about this? Ten minutes, I don't care.But if the train doesn't arrive until seven-twenty, oh well, you can't go home until seven-thirty.I mean, why is this train called the '6:50 train'? " "Exactly," I said.That's when I saw Lawrence.Redding came to us from the other side of the road. In order to get rid of his nagging, I excused myself by saying that I had something to tell Redding, and walked away.